


Home for Christmas

by maaaaa



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23580010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maaaaa/pseuds/maaaaa
Summary: Written in December 2006 for TS Secret Santa on LiveJournal
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Kudos: 8





	Home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written in December 2006 for TS Secret Santa on LiveJournal

Jim fussed unnecessarily with his tie as he stood in front of the mirror. He flicked his hand across the top of his head several times, smoothing down hairs that had no hope or intention of being out of place. He fiddled with his belt and adjusted his blue silk handkerchief, aligning it at just the right angle, and then yanked it out, re-folded it and tucked it back into his breast pocket.

All the while, Blair bustled around downstairs, pointedly oblivious to Jim’s dawdling.

Jim came up with a few more delaying tactics…checking his wallet, buffing the tips of his shoes on the backs of his pant legs, dusting imaginary pieces of lint off the sleeves of his suit coat… before succumbing to the inevitable. He took one last look at himself, grabbed his overcoat, and then jogged down the stairs. He tossed the overcoat onto the back of the couch and glanced toward the balcony doors. One look at the small tree bedecked with twinkling lights and crisscrossed with garland, as well as the cozy feel the holiday trimmings scattered around the loft stirred in him, had him ready to trot back up the stairs and change into a comfy set of sweats.

“Don’t even think about it, Ellison,” Blair warned with a stern shout from the small room under the stairs. “You’re running late as it is and I do not want to have to kick your ass.”

Jim’s jaw twitched slightly as he worked at stifling a retort. He eyed the tree longingly for another moment before rounding to take on his roommate, deciding he did want to challenge the little shit’s provocation after all. He marched to the open French doors and affected a rigid stance.

“You and what army?” he growled as he crossed his arms.

“Good comeback, man,” Blair snorted, looking at Jim from over the top of his glasses as he continued messing around the small cluttered space. “Haven’t heard that one since the seventh grade.”

“I don’t want to go,” Jim stated with a concerted effort not to sound whiny. He affixed his most steely fearsome badassed cop glare on Blair; ignoring whatever it was Blair was puttering away at.

Blair stopped what he was doing and pushed his glasses up his nose with the tip of a finger. He gave Jim a quick once over and smacked his lips. “Mm mm…mmm. You look great,” he appraised with a shivered breath. He walked up to Jim and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. He tugged gently and Jim, caught off guard, spilled into Blair’s personal space. “Good enough to eat,” Blair rasped just before he nibbled Jim’s lower lip.

“You’re not helping things, Chief,” Jim mouthed, his lips brushing Blair’s, his breath warm and minty. He clamped onto to Blair’s upper arms and pulled him close. He kissed Blair, hard and quick. “I don’t want to go,” he griped, his words whispery and needy.

“You’re going,” Blair replied as he pried himself out of Jim’s grasp. “We talked about this.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Jim answered softly, “and the loft smells like warm cinnamon and fresh pine and you taste,” he nipped at Blair’s lips again, “like sugar cookies.”

“And your dad and Stephen are expecting you,” Blair reminded as he snatched the handkerchief from Jim’s pocket. He shook it out and then shoved it back into Jim’s pocket, haphazardly arranging the protruding fabric edges to his liking. “This is important, Jim, they’re your family and they’re reaching out, man.”

Jim slid the handkerchief out once again and began folding it meticulously. “You’re my family too, Chief, and I want to spend Christmas Eve with you.”

“And you will, Jim, it’s early, you’ll meet William and Stephen for dinner, you’ll make nice and give it the old Ellison try, and you’ll be back here in my arms, curled up on the couch by ten.” Blair looked at Jim with a brightness in his eyes that was due to more than the shiny tree lights.

“But I want you with me,” Jim asserted. He returned Blair’s gaze and played his fingertips along Blair’s jaw line.

“I wasn’t invited, remember? I’m the goofy geek that they haven’t even quite figured out why you let me hang around, yeah?” Blair shook his head and waggled his hand in the space between their chests. “This is so not the right time to spring me, us, this, on them.”

“We told Naomi,” Jim pointed out, “I don’t see why we have to hide it from my family.”

Naomi had taken the news about Jim and Blair in stride, never missing a beat as she’d beamed with joy and wrapped loving arms around the both of them when Blair had nonchalantly informed her of their relationship during her breezy pre ‘holiday of your choosing’ visit a few weeks earlier.

“We didn’t even discuss it before you blurted it out to her, Chief,” Jim said irritably. “So why the big secret with my family, huh?”

Blair’s eyebrows squirreled in amusement. “Right, my mom and your dad, there’re two people on the same open-minded wavelength.”

The fact that Naomi Sandburg was, to say the least, bi-sexual, was a little tidbit Blair hadn’t yet shared with Jim. The long line of lovers, partners, and would be parental candidates that had shared Naomi’s bed hadn’t all been of the male persuasion.

Jim grunted in frustration and slipped the squared off handkerchief back into place.

“Besides, I’m hauling my buns,” Blair said with a shimmy, “down to the shelter on Fourth to help out. So I won’t even be here, so you’d better haul your buns,” he hip-nudged Jim and pinched his ass as he wiggled past and darted toward the front door, “over to your dad’s. Pronto.”

Jim turned stiffly and started after Blair. “What’s the point of reconciling with them if I can’t tell them about us?” he argued, this time not caring if he sounded more than a little peeved. “If they’re not going to accept it, I wanna know, and the sooner the better.”

“And then what, Jim? It’s Christmas Eve, for chrissake, you’re all just getting to know each other again, why would you want to jeopardize this chance to reconnect?” Blair retorted. He plucked his coat from its hook and pulled the front door open, stepping halfway through. He stopped and turned toward Jim “We’ll tell them. It just doesn’t have to be tonight, man,” he added gently.

Jim wanted to protest further, but he knew Blair was right. His face crumpled into what could only be described as a pout. He moved into the doorway and started futzing with Blair’s coat, pulling it closed as if he was going to start buttoning it up.

“You’ll be back by ten?” he questioned, his eyes downcast, riveted on the mundane task instead of Blair’s face. “Promise?”

Blair batted Jim’s hands away from his coat. He bent his knees, ducked his head, and looked up at Jim, forcing their eyes to meet. “By ten,” he promised solemnly, crossing his heart.

“All right,” Jim answered resignedly. “Ten, no later,” he emphasized. He let Blair kiss him, acting as if he didn’t care.

Blair chuckled, his breath ticklish against Jim’s tight lips. Then he started to pull out of the awkward stance, but Jim caught one of his arms and yanked him back. Blair bumped up against him, hard, and Jim kissed him back, sealing the deal.

Blair scooted away then, heading toward the stairs. “I gotta run, man, I’m gonna miss the bus.”

“Bus? What bus?” Jim yelled at Blair’s retreating back.

“Car’s on the fritz,” Blair tossed back over his shoulder as he started down the stairs. “But don’t worry, they’re running until midnight.”

“Sandburg,” Jim barked, “you should’ve said something, I could’ve driven you over there.” And for just a moment, Jim thought back to Blair’s mention of the shelter on Fourth. Something bothersome niggled at the back of his mind.

“No time!” Blair shouted as he hit the landing and started down the next flight. “You’re running late, remember? Now get your ass in gear, Ellison, and don’t forget the presents!”

Jim walked to the top of the stairs. “What presents?” he yelled down, catching a glimpse of Blair as he spiraled into view on the last set of steps. “Sandburg! What presents?”

“For your dad and Stephen! It’s Christmas for cryin’ out loud, you doofus! Oh, and Sally too!” Blair yelled back. He looked up, grinning at Jim with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and waved a hand, shooing Jim off. “They’re in the office! Now move it, Jim!”

Jim heard the door at the bottom of the stairs whoosh open and bang against the side of the building, caught by a sudden blast of air. A colorful curse, totally unsuitable for the Season, drifted upwards just before he heard the door being slammed shut. Then he listened to Blair’s hurried footsteps slapping against wet pavement as he ran to the bus stop on the corner.

Jim shook his head, sighed, and re-entered the loft. He went to the couch, picked up his overcoat and put it on as he ambled over to the office and looked in. He laughed out loud when he saw the mess Blair’d left behind. Bunched up wads of Christmas paper and slivers of ribbon, along with empty spools and the packaging everything’d come in, rolls of tape, scissors, and bits and pieces of other holiday trimming, were strewn all over the place. And on the desk were three packages, neatly wrapped in silver paper that sparkled with iridescent flecks, topped with festive blue bows. He gathered up the presents, tucked them under one arm, and went into the living room. He took another longing look at the tree before unplugging the lights and setting off for his dad’s.

~*~*~*~

It was still early enough in the evening that the bus was crowded with people anxious to get home, or rushing to tend to last minute holiday errands. Blair let the jostling rhythm of the swaying vehicle and the buzz of surrounding conversations lull him. He had to transfer once, near the center of downtown. The shelter he was headed to wasn’t on the main bus route, so when the bus took him as close as he’d get, roughly six blocks away, he hopped off and started to walk.

He hurried along icy slush covered sidewalks, wishing for at least the hundredth time since he’d flown out of the loft that he’d grabbed his gloves and a hat on the way out. He’d been so anxious to divert Jim’s attention away from the argument they’d been headed toward, that he’d neglected to notice the jacket he’d grabbed didn’t have those items stuffed into its pockets. Okay, it wasn’t so much an argument as a squabble, he admitted to himself with a satisfied chuckle. And…it was really more a lover’s squabble he amended further, and smiled contentedly.

He turned up the collar of his coat and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he sidestepped slick patches. He kept his head down, intent on watching where he stepped, heading on instinct in the right direction.

For the first block or two…while he was still in the shopping district…green, red, yellow, and blue lights sparkled and blinked, brightly festooned around seemingly every streetlamp and signpost. Sleigh bells jingled, and carols blared from speakers hidden among artificial Christmas trees. By the third block the Christmas lights disappeared, and the seasonal music receded, echoing off darkened storefronts. By the fourth block the only lighting at all came from an occasional flickering neon bar sign.

Blair muttered as he walked, appreciative of the warmth his breath generated within the confines of the upturned collar. Despite what he’d preached to Jim before hightailing it out of the loft, Blair felt pangs of regret at not being in on the Ellison festivities.

“Jim’s gotta give them time,” he reasoned with himself. “Merry Christmas Dad, Stephen, it’s really great to be together again, as a family, and by the way, you know Blair, right? My lover,” he quipped softly, in an austere Jim Ellison-esque manner. “Who-yah, so not a good plan.”

Blair turned the corner onto Fourth and at last took in his surroundings. The shelter was a few doors up, and should have been teaming with activity at this time on Christmas Eve, but the street was eerily quiet. He glanced back toward the intersection and frowned as he confirmed where he was by reading the street sign. He checked the number on the nearest building and ventured on. Finally arriving at where there ought to be a shelter, Blair’s heart sank. There was no one about, and the building was dark. He walked past the large window that fronted the building and stepped into the recessed alcove that held the entry. He tried the door, rattling the knob, but it was locked tight. He pounded the flat of his hand against the cold metal and futilely shouted a hello, not surprised when there was no answer.

“Weird,” Blair stated, his voice startlingly loud in the deserted street.

He backed out of the alcove and tried to peer into the building through the window, but it was frosted over. He reached out and touched the glass tentatively, tracing the tentacled ice crystals. He sighed and affected a shiver, hunching his shoulders against a chill that was more internal than external. Using the heel of his hand, he rubbed at the frozen condensation in increasingly larger circles, exerting just enough pressure to reveal what was displayed on the other side of the glass.

A large room gaped in front of him, riddled with overturned tables and broken chairs. He had to squint to make out anything, the objects appearing as gray outlines against a black backdrop. He cupped one hand against the glass and leaned in closer, squinting harder.

“Oh, man, what happened?” Blair pondered aloud, speaking to the room. His breath hit the glass in warm spurts, causing tiny clouds of vapor to mist and evaporate.

He’d been coming to this shelter every year since he’d started at Rainier. The first few years, it’d been with Naomi, when she’d come to visit over the holidays. Never one to be content without a cause to glue herself to, she’d found the Fourth Street shelter in dire need of volunteers. And the two of them had spent many memorable, joyful hours working together to help out. When he was older, and their paths couldn’t always cross at this time of year, Blair’d kept on volunteering.

Blair continued to look, now imagining the room full of people seeking a safe harbor for both mind and body. He shook his head sadly, wondering where they’d all gone this year, hoping the other shelters were adequately staffed. He gave himself a good mental kick for not having checked things out earlier in the week. As long as he could remember, the shelter had been here; he just hadn’t ever considered the possibility it wouldn’t be.

As his gaze wandered about the room, he noticed something on the walls…words of some sort, or symbols, splattered across most of the surfaces.

Blair flinched. “Shit,” he whispered. Gang symbols.

~*~*~*~

Jim approached the front door of his dad’s house slowly, appreciatively taking in the tasteful wreath on the door and the tiny white lights decorating the bushes. He reached for the brass knocker, then changed his mind and opened the door, letting himself in.

“Hello?” he hollered, his voice ringing upward. “Merry Christmas,” he added loudly. He placed the presents on the bottom step and shrugged out of his overcoat. He was about to start up when Stephen appeared, dressed in jeans and a sweater.

“Whoa, look at you,” Stephen said with a broad grin plastered across his face. “Why the get up?”

“It’s a holiday dinner, Stevie,” Jim answered gruffly. “We always dressed up for---.”

His words were cut off by William’s appearance. His dad was comfortably attired in khaki’s and a well-worn cardigan.

“Merry Christmas Jimmy, “William said, greeting Jim with a warm smile.

“Hang on,” Jim said with laugh and a smile of his own. “Steve, grab these willya?” he pointed to the presents. “I’ll be right back.”

Jim jogged to the truck and retrieved his gym bag from the behind the seat. He returned to the house and within ten minutes he was changed into the spare set of clothes he kept on hand. He took a minute to admire the tree in the living room before joining William and Stephen in the dining room, where both men were busy helping Sally lay out the table. Jim pitched in amid hugs and season’s greetings. A few minutes later, they sat down to eat.

Easy banter ensued and Jim felt a deep down sense of familiarity and hominess that had never filled the Ellison house when he was a kid. Blair had been right as usual Jim mused with a thoughtful grin. This was what he needed, this sense of home and family being there for him filling him to the core, before anything else was tossed into the mix.

As if reading his thoughts, William piped in. “How’s Blair? Too bad he couldn’t join us tonight.”

“What? Join us?” Jim asked, confused by his dad’s remark.

“Yeah, he told me he already had plans,” Stephen said. “I didn’t know if Christmas was his thing or not, but I asked anyway.”

“You invited Blair,” Jim asked, this time more a statement then a question. And then it dawned on him. Blair had orchestrated his non-participation all along. He recovered his wits and answered. “Yeah, he didn’t want to intrude,” he obfuscated on Blair’s behalf. “He’s helping out down at the Fourth Street shelter.”

“Fourth Street?” Sally asked. “You must be wrong, Jim,” she added, frowning in thought. “I always send food boxes over there, but they shut it down this year, with all the gang activity in the area.”

The bothersome niggling from earlier returned with a crashing thud in the pit of Jim’s stomach. He lurched to his feet and ran to the hall. He fished around in the pockets of his coat and pulled out his cell phone. He hit the speed dial for Blair, and waited anxiously for the kid to answer.

“Come on, come on, Sandburg, pick up,” he mumbled over and over in short gasps between gritted teeth.

The phone rang and rang, and when Blair’s voice finally came through, it was his recorded message that Jim heard.

The trio had followed him out into the hall and now stood staring at Jim with mixed fretful looks.

“I’ve gotta go,” Jim stated as he closed the phone and headed toward the door.

“I’m coming with you,” Stephen responded without hesitation in reaction to Jim’s decisive action and panic-stricken face.

Jim didn’t argue and nodded his okay. The brothers hurried to the truck. As they drove off, Jim could hear the genuine concern in William’s voice as he called after them demanding that they call as soon as they found Blair.

~*~*~*~

“Kinda late for window shoppin’ dude,” a voice sneered at him from behind.

Blair froze. He eased his gaze, pulling back from the sights inside the building, and the reflection of a young man standing to his left came into focus. He was adorned with unmistakable gang colors and emblems; a cocky grin twitched at the corners of his mouth.

“I, uh, came to help at the shelter,” Blair chuckled nervously. He held his hands up and out to his sides in a show of non-combativeness. “I didn’t know---,”

“Ain’t no shelter here, man,” the youngster cut in abruptly. “We take care of our own. Don’t need no goody-two-shoe-ers comin’ onto our turf.”

With one hand, he latched on to one of Blair’s arms and twisted it behind his back. His other hand molded itself to the base of Blair’s skull and slammed Blair’s face into the glass. Blair saw stars for a moment. The coldness bit into his cheek and nose where his skin was plastered against the frost.

“Take it easy,” Blair reasoned, mumbling shakily. He lips, scrunched against the glass, contorted painfully as he talked.

The youngster was frisking him now, none too gently. He patted Blair down and searched his pockets, helping himself to Blair’s wallet. He found Blair’s cell phone and tossed it to the side. It hit the pavement and slid a few feet, ending up in a puddle.

“Seein’ as it’s Christmas an’ all, I’m gonna overlook your little intrusion on our turf,” the youngster hissed in Blair’s ear. “This time,” he emphasized with a jab to Blair’s midsection. He was leaning in close, pressing his body against Blair’s, the handgun in his belt digging into Blair’s lower back. He released his hold and stepped back. Blair stayed put for a moment, afraid to turn and look at the kid. He watched the kid’s face in the glass, the kid seemingly unaware that Blair could make out his reflected features, or he might not have been so generous in his offer to let Blair go. From behind, his scowl taunted Blair, daring him to turn so he’d have an excuse to hit him again.

Instead, Blair doubled over, clutching his belly, and slinked off. He didn’t look up or back. He sucked in a shaky breath and held it, offering supplication to several deities, hoping the kid had had enough fun at his expense, and would keep to his word about his version of seasonal generosity. He felt his way along the building, steadying himself by leaning against the glass, then brickwork. The fabric of his jacket caught and snagged as he dragged himself along.

Blair reached the corner and chanced a quick peek over his shoulder before turning onto the street that led back to the bus route. The kid was gone. He sighed with relief and warmed his hands over the shaky breaths he expelled. He straightened up as best he could and assessed his injuries. His side hurt and was probably bruised, but no real damage. He touched his face gingerly, wincing at the tender spot where his cheek had connected with the plate glass. The skin was abraded, but not cut, and he carefully dabbed his nostrils, checking for blood. His fingertips came away covered with stickiness, but the blood was congealing already. He headed toward the lights of downtown, calling to him from beyond the darkness a few blocks away.

He hobbled on for what seemed like too long to cover such a short distance, but the bus stop finally came into view. He plopped down onto a bench and hitched a breath as the movement jarred his side. He rubbed the tender spot vigorously, and the pain eased.

Blair looked around. All the stores and restaurants looked to have closed up already. There were few cars, and no pedestrians at all. The area was serenely quiet, except for the now toned-down Christmas music, and was blissfully well lit. He wondered what time it was, wondered how he was going to get home. He had no wallet, so no bus pass or money. His phone was in a puddle. He scanned the area for a pay phone and spotted a booth about a block and a half away. He hauled himself to his feet just as it began to snow.

“Right, perfect,” Blair said with a rueful smile as he looked up. Large snowflakes spiraled downward in dizzying swirls. “Merry Christmas.”

When he looked back down, he saw a man crossing the street, heading toward him. His casual saunter made it apparent who, or at least what, he was before Blair even noted the gang colors.

On the far street corner Blair could see the kid who’d just roughed him up, flanked on either side by two additional gang members. The kid seemed flustered but put on a show of being indifferent to Blair’s presence.

Blair’s gut tightened and his heart began to race. He glanced around, hoping for some sign that he wasn’t alone and in this predicament.

“Yo, Blair, that you, man?” the man in the street called out. He stopped just shy of the centerline and canted his body into a street-punk kilter. Blair’s battered wallet dangled between his thumb and forefinger, waving in the air.

Blair just stared at him, not sure if could respond even if he’d known what to say.

“It’s Bobby,” the man said, poking his chest with his thumb. “Bobby Conlin, you remember me?”

It seemed as if Bobby had reached an invisible barrier he wasn’t willing to cross, so Blair took a few tentative steps into the street. His mind scrambled to place the name, match the name to the face. And then it came to him.

“Yeah, yeah I remember you, from the shelter, right?” Blair ventured with a spurt of hope. “I was sorry to hear about your Gram. She was a really nice lady.”

Bobby Conlin and his grandmother had been regulars at the shelter for many years, sometimes helping out, sometime needing help.

“It was nice of you to come to the service, real nice, man, she liked you too,” Bobby said with a shrug.

Blair closed the distance between himself and Bobby, less wary now. He showed his hands and then pulled his jacket tighter against his body and bobbled in place, to ward off the damp chill that was starting to leech into his bones.

Jerking his head toward the kid on the corner, Bobby tossed the wallet to Blair. “My man Percy here, seems he mighta got a little over zealous in his desire to prove himself,” he said.

Blair caught the wallet and nodded his head, keeping eye contact.

Just then, Jim’s blue pickup swung around the corner a block away. Blair turned and watched, a sudden firm believer in Christmas miracles, as the vehicle made straight for him and pulled to a stop.

Jim was out of the truck, reaching for his gun and racing to Blair’s side, as soon as he’d jammed it into park. Stephen ignored the barked order to stay in the truck and slid to a halt just in front of it, staying out of the way.

“Cascade PD, put your hands where I can see them,” Jim snapped as he trained the gun on Bobby.

Bobby and his cohorts dutifully raised their hands. Bobby glanced at Blair and cocked an eyebrow.

“Hey, Jim, man, back off,” Blair interceded. He stepped between Jim and Bobby and held his hands in front of his chest. “It’s cool.”

Jim’s eyes darted from Bobby to Blair, broadcasting his doubts loud and clear.

Blair’s eyes fixed on Jim and narrowed. He cocked his head and with a minute tremor pleaded for Jim to let things diffuse.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Jim finally asked as he lowered his weapon.

“I was, uh, headed to the shelter and I was stuffing my pass back into my wallet when, wham! I took a header on the ice and nose-dived into the pavement. My wallet went flying and Bobby here, well, Percy actually, found it for me and they were just helping me out,” Blair obfuscated earnestly.

“Right,” Jim said, glancing once again at Bobby. He could sense something was up, but couldn’t nail what it was.

“Jiii-im, back off, huh?” Blair urged as he whapped Jim’s arm.

“We’ll just be on our way then, if it’s all cool,” Bobby stated, all calm and collected.

Jim hesitated for a heartbeat, and then nodded curtly.

Bobby nodded back and turned to go.

“Hey Bobby,” Blair called.

Bobby kept walking, but looked back over his shoulder, acknowledging Blair with a tight-lipped smile.

“You oughta think about re-opening the shelter. It did a lot of good for a lot of people,” Blair said. “Think about it, huh?”

Bobby acknowledged Blair’s question with a non-committal shrug before herding his gang back toward their turf.

Jim followed their movements until they were completely out of sight, and then until he could no longer hear their footsteps or swaggering banter. Then he turned back to Blair.

“Chief, damn, Chief, are you all right?” Jim questioned as he wrapped his arms around Blair and hugged him. Not waiting for an answer, Jim cupped Blair’s face and examined it, skimming a thumb over the bruising shiner that was forming under his left eye. He checked Blair’s eyes for proper dilation and nodded his head satisfactorily at what he saw.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Jim probed, both with words and action as he started running his hands over Blair’s head and torso.

“Yeah, I’m okay, mussed up a bit, that’s all,” Blair replied as he scuffled with Jim, pushing the questing hands away. “Just hold me, k?” he pleaded.

Jim complied and gathered Blair into his arms. He kissed the top of Blair’s head.

Stephen was still standing to one side, watching, not saying anything.

“You’re freezing,” Jim said after a moment. “We need to get you home. You sure you’re okay? You are okay, aren’t you?” he asked again. “Do we need to go to the ER?”

“Stop babbling Jim,” Blair replied, sinking further into Jim’s embrace. “That’s my job, remember? I’m fine, just sore.”

Stephen cleared his throat then, startling both Jim and Blair out of their moment.

“Help me get him in the truck,” Jim instructed, completely nonplussed at Stephen’s temporarily forgotten presence.

Blair blushed and ducked his head, avoiding Stephen’s gaze, as the two men bundled him into the truck. He tried to settle himself in the middle of the seat, between them, but when Jim slid in behind the wheel, he unselfconsciously curled an arm around Blair and pulled him next to his side.

Stephen put a fist to his mouth, covering a grin.

“Is there, uh, something you wanna tell me bro?” he asked with an innocent lilt to his voice.

“No,” Blair blurted, still squirming to escape Jim’s hold.

Jim squeezed Blair’s arm to shush him, anchored him tightly to his side, and lightly swatted his hip.

“Yes, there is,” Jim answered in a calm steady voice. He looked his brother in the eye. “Blair’s my boyfriend. Boyfriend,” he repeated emphatically, daring his brother to say something derogatory. “We’re lovers.”

Blair uttered a pitiful sounding groan, and sunk lower into the seat.

“Oh,” was all Stephen said, nodding his head. He looked back at Jim, meeting his eyes squarely. And then he smiled.

The ride to William’s was a somewhat surreal experience, as Blair listened from within his cocooned space to Jim and Stephen discussing how best to broach the subject about Jim and Blair to their dad.

Jim dropped Stephen off and waved to his dad, who’d appeared in the doorway when he’d heard the truck return. He left it in Stephen’s capable hands to explain to Sally and William what had happened, or at least Blair’s ‘that’s really what happened I swear Jim’ version of what had happened. And to deliver to his dad his assurance that both he and Blair would be on hand the next day for Christmas dinner and the gift-giving that they’d had to forego this evening. And nothing else…Jim would handle any further announcements himself.

Blair tried to talk to Jim on the way to the loft, but Jim continually shushed him with the crooning of carols hummed soft and low, and reassuring squeezes sprinkled with intermittent kisses whenever they stopped at a red light.

~*~*~*~

Once in the loft, Jim steered Blair to the bathroom. He directed Blair to sit while he filled the tub with hot water laced with bubbles and bath oil. Then Jim helped Blair disrobe and Blair didn’t protest Jim’s fussing over him. Jim took a good look at the spot where Blair had been punched, running his fingertips over the soft swelling.

“I don’t think it’s gonna bruise too badly,” he assured. “Your layers probably absorbed most of the potential damage. Might be tender for a bit, though,” he warned as he guided Blair into the tub.

“Yeah, it mostly just knocked the wind outta me,” Blair agreed. “Jim,” he started.

“Shhhhhhh,” Jim replied as he pushed on Blair’s shoulders, easing him back. “You’re cold as a Popsicle. I want you to just soak for a while and warm up. You can tell me all about it in a bit.”

Jim plucked Blair’s discarded clothes from the floor and left the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later with one of his robes and several large fluffy towels.

Blair let the warmth from both the water and Jim’s attentions soak in. He closed his eyes and dozed, dreaming fitfully of his scuffle at the shelter and the upcoming day.

When Jim roused him, Blair let him once again do most of the work, getting him out of the tub and drying him off. Wrapped in Jim’s robe, Blair felt better in body, if not in mind and soul. By this time, Jim was in nothing but a robe himself, and Blair managed a sad little smile at the sight.

Jim walked him to the living room. The lit tree, along with scented candles, cast the only light. Mugs of hot chocolate sat on the coffee table along with a plate of fruit, cold cuts and cookies. The couch cushions were missing, laid out on the floor in front of the tree, covered up with a fuzzy comforter. The couch itself was pushed to one side, bumped up to its renegade cushions.

Jim sat on the floor, with his back against the couch back, and pulled Blair down in front of him, so they both faced the tree. He settled Blair between his legs and crisscrossed his arms over Blair’s chest. He breathed in the oiled scent of his lover, and snuffled his nose cozily in Blair’s hair.

“See Jim? Back, cuddled together by ten, as promised,” Blair offered in a dismal voice.

“Eat,” Jim instructed, “then we’ll talk.”

Blair complied, grateful for the warm drink and light fare. Jim continued to pamper his love by hand feeding him pieces of fruit and rolled up slices of turkey. He shared the cookies with Blair, stealing sugary kisses between bites.

When the plate and mugs were empty, and removed from sight, Blair knew it was time to go over the night’s activities…the guide to sentinel, Blair to Jim version.

Blair drew in a deep lungful of air and then recited the evening’s events, starting with leaving the loft without the proper cold weather attire, proceeding to the discovery of the closed down shelter, and ending with both encounters with the gang and Jim’s coming to the rescue. Blair shivered, knowing the night could have had a much more dire outcome. He fidgeted anxiously, waiting for Jim’s lecture to commence.

“Why, Chief?” he asked, rocking them both. “Why did you---,”

Blair stiffened and tilted his head so he could look up at Jim, cutting abruptly into the question. A little misdirection wouldn’t hurt.

“I just grabbed the wrong jacket, really, I was in a hurry and I know I should’ve checked for a hat and gloves, but, I was just in a hurry, like I said, and---,”

“I’m not talking about that. That was understandable. Something that just got overlooked. You’ll be more careful next time,” Jim soothed. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

Blair ran a hand through his curls, ruffled them, and blew out a slow breath.

“Man, how was I supposed to know the shelter was closed? Okay, yeah, I could’ve checked in earlier in the week, but that shelter’s been there forever, man, and even then, how was I supposed to know that a gang had moved in?”

Jim hugged Blair closer and leaned down. He kissed Blair gently, insinuating that wasn’t the crux of the matter, and imbuing the gesture with relief for Blair’s safe return to him.

“That’s not what I’m asking either. I’m more at fault for that than you are. I knew about the gang activity. We’ve been monitoring it at the station. I was just so flustered about going to dad’s tonight; I never put two and two together when you mentioned Fourth Street.”

Blair squirmed within Jim’s hold and tackled the subject of covering up for what had really happened just before Jim had arrived.

“I knew Bobby, Jim, he was a good kid, he was trying to make amends tonight, the best way he knows. It’s never too late, so I figured Peace on Earth, good will toward man, you know?” he implored, wanting Jim to understand his actions.

Jim pulled Blair closer and quieted his restlessness by laying his cheek alongside Blair’s and rocking them gently back and forth for several minutes.

“Yeah, Chief, I know,” Jim reassured. “It’s one of the things I love most about you, your everlasting faith in your fellow man. But that still isn’t what I was asking.”

“Then what is it Jim?” Blair whispered, hoping this wasn’t leading where it might.

No such luck.

“Why did you lie to me? About not being invited to Christmas Eve at dad’s?” Jim questioned, the hurt in his voice apparent. “And don’t even try to obfuscate Blair. Stephen spilled the beans. It’s what kid brothers do. And I don’t want to hear semantics, Chief. Omission, commission, it’s still lying.”

Blair nodded, more to himself than in answer to Jim. He gulped, and found his voice catching in his throat. He swallowed hard and plunged ahead, his voice a barely audible whisper.

“I knew I wouldn’t fit in. It was a really nice gesture on Stephen’s part. But do you have any idea how many times I’ve been invited to a holiday gathering out of pity? I couldn’t stand that, Jim, not with your family. And then you, wanting to tell them about us, I couldn’t bear it if they made you choose between them and me, not now, not at Christmas, not after all this time with you and them not being a family, and now having that chance again.”

The words had rushed out in one long breath and then sputtered to a stop. Blair slumped into Jim’s embrace and nestled his head under Jim’s chin.

“Oh, Chief, what am I going to do with you?” Jim responded tenderly. “They can’t put me in the position to choose, even if they want to. I’ve made my choice, and my choice is you. Any other choice is up to them.”

Blair wormed his way out of Jim’s clutches and turned to kneel on his haunches, still within Jim’s space. He looked at Jim with a mixture of awe and devotion that broke Jim’s heart and at the same time buoyed his spirit.

“Make love to me?” Blair enthused, starting to wiggle out of his robe.

“Just hang on a minute, Chief, you’re not off the hook for the lying,” Jim scolded with a mock-stern glare.

Blair’s eyebrows squiggled into his curls and his lips curled into an overt pout.

“I’m sorry about that Jim, really, man, I am, won’t happen again, promise,” he stated adamantly. He lunged forward, knocking Jim a little off balance, and kissed him enthusiastically.

Jim shoved his hands into Blair’s armpits and lifted him. He levered him down onto his back, mindful of his tender side, and straddled him. An evil little laugh escaped through his parted lips and his eyes crinkled mirthfully. He hovered over Blair menacingly. His robe fell open and his cock, fully erect, brushed across Blair’s belly.

“If you ever lie to me like that again,” he warned as he slowly peeled the robe off Blair, as if he were unwrapping a present. “Your rump’ll be red and glowing, just like Rudolph’s nose.”

“Oh, yeah, talk dirty to me, man,” Blair answered with a laugh. He wiggled just enough to assist Jim’s efforts to get him naked.

“You’re an unrepentant little brat, you know that?” Jim teased as he tweaked Blair’s nipple ring.

Blair responded by grabbing fistfuls of blanket and arching his back up. He tossed his head to one side and squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip. He moaned a little and his cock twitched.

Jim admired the beauty of the man lying under him, bathed in the flickering candlelight. The twinkling multi-colored lights from the tree sparkled among Blair’s curls and danced across his torso, glittering like jewels as they reflected off the arousal-slicked skin.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Jim inquired gently, mindful of Blair’s tender cheekbone and sore side. He chuckled, ignoring the obvious pun as Blair’s cock stood up and aligned with Jim’s.

Blair cracked one eye open and leered at him. “I’m gonna ache tomorrow anyway,” he reasoned. “Make it worth my while. Please?”

Jim trailed his fingertips along the curve of Blair’s pec’s and flattened his hand against the flat of his abdomen as he worked his way to his cock. He took it in a firm grasp, and pumped slowly, deliberately, bringing it to full arousal. Then he carefully, expertly, flipped Blair over.

Blair tucked his knees under his chest and pushed his ass up, resting his forearms on the floor. He blindly reached out, fumbling around for something to prop under him. But Jim had anticipated every possible need and thrust a sturdy pillow toward him. Blair stuffed the pillow into place beneath him and eased himself into a comfortable position.

Jim knelt behind Blair. He caressed Blair’s ass, and kneaded the firm cheeks. He delved into the crevice and teased at the quivering pucker. Blair spread his legs, exposing himself, wiggling his behind invitingly, and groaned impatiently.

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s right,” Jim droned in sleazy encouragement. He slipped a hand under the couch and pulled out the tube he’d stashed there. He slicked his fingers and slid two into Blair, working them slowly in and out.

“Now Jim, now, please,” Blair whispered.

Jim lubed his cock and entered Blair with a slow steady push. He waited while Blair adjusted to the intrusion, and then, when Blair tightened his muscles around him, he started rocking back and forth.

They moved together, as always clumsily at first jockeying for the right position, and then found their rhythm and settled into it.

Jim steadied Blair with one hand on his flank, pressing into his flesh. He snaked his other hand under them and walked his fingertips along Blair’s thigh and over the crease where leg and torso joined and then up and down Blair’s throbbing cock until Blair snarled and poked his cock into his hand demandingly. Jim fisted Blair firmly and pumped his cock in time with the thrusts of his cock in Blair’s ass.

The loft was quiet except for their hard, heavy breaths and the guttural moans each man found enticing, exciting, arousing.

Blair shook and spasmed around Jim’s cock and in Jim’s hand, and then came with a sudden, surprised yelp.

Jim held on until Blair was spent and then he increased his pace and came with a satisfied growl.

Blair let his knees give way as Jim lowered them both down and onto Blair’s uninjured side. Jim spooned up behind Blair and swept his damp curls out of the way, then kissed his way along the top of Blair’s shoulder, ending up nuzzling the nape of his neck. He gathered up excess folds of the comforter from behind and threw it up and over, covering them both.

They snuggled there together under the soft glow of the Christmas lights and lingering peacefulness of their lovemaking.

“I love you Blair,” Jim breathed out in a hushed tone, letting his words drift through the air. “Always.”

Blair turned just enough to see Jim’s face, not allowing Jim’s hold on him to relax.

“Love you too Jim. Always,” Blair promised.


End file.
